


Lady of Gold

by Mictecacihuatl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mictecacihuatl/pseuds/Mictecacihuatl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa recently moved back to her hometown after years out of the country. She reconnects with her friends, and desperately tries not to think of Clarke. She fails. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fluff, basically. I guess?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote to vent. I've been going through a hell of a time lately, and I've been really down on myself about it, so this was written to help relieve some of that pain. I'm honestly not entirely sure how I feel about this. It's deeply personal, but I wanted to share it. I decided to write this as a fanfic for two reasons: 1) as practice 2) to avoid the headache of planning out original characters, because when I do that it takes months, if not years. I can't just churn 'em out like nothing. With that being said, some of this might be OOC. All of it might be OOC. I don't know. I never planned on writing anything Clexa, but here we are. 
> 
> It's also my first time writing in 2nd person and holy hell it's weird. 
> 
> There's swearing, anxiety attacks, sleep paralysis, dissociation, talk of injuries, mentions of depression, etc.  
> The two songs mentioned in here are: Have You In My Wilderness - Julia Holter (title is from that as well) and Saltwater - Beach House  
> This is unedited. I can't look at it anymore. 
> 
> xx Mictec

You're awake. At least, you think you are. No, you know you are. If it wasn't for the looming figures at the foot of your bed, it wouldn't even be a question, but you cannot move, and you cannot scream. Terror fills you, runs through your veins with an icy burn, and you are unable to open your mouth. It feels like you're sinking, sinking deeper into your mattress and you hope, you pray, that it swallows you whole and ends this nightmare. It does not, of course. It feels like hours go by, when it's only been minutes, and your body is lead. When you can finally move, you are still, save for the tear that rolls down your cheek. You can taste the saltiness as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You take a deep breath and dig the palms of your hands into your eyes, rubbing away the remnants of sleep from them. The floor is extremely cold, and you recoil when you first place your feet on it. Today is supposed to be a good day. A better day. Better than yesterday. Better than the day before that, the week before that, the months and years before that. You know it won't be, though. In the back of your head, there is a tiny voice, the voice of your subconsciousness, telling you it won't be. You push the voice back, tucking it away where it belongs, and swallow the spit that's thick in your throat. You need water. Lots of it. God knows you've not been having enough. It feels like there's glass in your throat and fire in your belly; like a wasteland lives inside of you. A glass is enough to sate your thirst for now. A shower is necessary. Your hair is thick and matted, as brown as your mother's and as unruly as your father's. You think you should call them today. No... no. You can't hear the disappointment in their voices today. You hear it enough from yourself. 

The shower is hot - scalding. You revel in the feeling of your skin tensing underneath the water that threatens to burn you. A little twist of the handle to the left and it most certainly would. That's not what you want though, no. You want to relax, you need to release the tension that has been building in your muscles for the past... 24 years. Your entire goddamn life. You can't help it. Not really. You've always been stressed, you've always been tense. You've always felt guilt for things that weren't even your fault, or completely out of your control. It was illogical, you knew that. You know that. As you wash away the conditioner in your hair and brush out the tangles that formed overnight, you wonder what direction you're headed in. It's a scary thought, especially when you realize you don't know. It's hard relying so much on other people when you view yourself as a failure, when you see your entire life as one big shortcoming. You've been working on getting past that. It's been tough, but you're getting there. 

  
_Alexandria, stop. Don't let it get to you. Not again._ You press your forehead against the cool tile of your shower as you push down on the handle to cut off the flow of water, and breathe in deeply, inhaling the last of the steam. Your phone ringing in the distance brings you back to reality, and you grab a towel, patting yourself dry and then wrapping it around you before stepping out of the shower. You pad over to your bedroom, and grab the phone, answering it without looking at the number.

"Woods." 

"Damn, Lex. Always so formal." The girl on the other line says. 

"Hello to you too, Octavia." 

"Listen, we're all getting lunch today, you should come. We haven't seen you in ages. We miss you." You sigh, and rub your forehead. There's a reason you've not been going out, not that you'd admit it to anyone. A particular blonde reason. 

"I know. I will try, but I cannot promise you anything." 

"What's wrong, Lex? You're shutting yourself away again and I'm getting worried about you."

"I'm fine. I have just been... stressed out." That's not a lie, exactly. However, you know that Octavia will see past it.

"Look, I know you just moved back and everything is crazy and up in the air right now, but you need to have some sort of life. Just come for an hour. If you want to leave before then, that's fine too. We just want to see you." 

"Damn right we want to see you, Woods!" You hear Raven shout, and that gets a small chuckle out of you. 

"Alright, fine. Just for an hour. I have to go now, Octavia. I do not want to be late on my first day."

"You got it, Commander." You can't help but smile at the nickname. It was silly, but for some reason it filled you with pride. "Have a good first day at work!" 

"Thank you. I'll see you later." 

 

\- - - 

 

This...this was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. Your stomach is already churning, and you feel lightheaded. It shouldn't be affecting you this much but you caught a flash of blonde hair from just outside the restaurant (your favorite one), and you feel like you're going to throw up. You're so excited to see her after so many months, but you've also come to realize that you, Alexandria "Lexa" Woods, are completely in love with one of your closest friends, and good god is that fucking with you. You take one last drag of your cigarette, and gently put it out on the sole of your shoe before sticking it back in its box. As soon as you walk into the restaurant, your nerves begin to dissipate. Octavia smiles and waves you over, and Raven yells a greeting. Clarke, the source of your nerves, turns around and her smile nearly blinds you. She stands up and practically runs towards you, and wraps her arms around your waist. 

"I missed you so much, Lexa." 

"I missed you too, Clarke." You tighten your hug right before you step away and cup her face with your hands, and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Affection comes easy with Clarke, for someone as reserved as you are. She hums and closes her eyes, and a warm smile graces her face. "Come, let's sit. It's good to be back." 

"Gosh, it's so good to have you back! I mean it was nice when you'd come visit but I missed having you close by all the time. This place isn't the same without you, Lex." 

"I won't lie, I did miss it. The time away helped me put things into perspective, though. I know what I want now."

"That's good to hear. I know you've been struggling with what you want to do for some time now." You hum in agreement as you sit in the free chair next to Clarke's. You smile at Raven and Octavia, whose backs are lit by the sunlight flowing in through the large window behind them. You're grateful they're keeping the sun off your face. 

"Welcome back, Commander," Octavia winked at you. 

"Thank you. I missed this place. I never thought I would until I left."

"Yeah, funny how that works, huh? Glad to have you back, Lex," Raven nodded. "Now, let's get some beer in our bellies!" 

You catch up with your friends over the next two hours, enjoying the taste of your favorite local brew and the best tacos you've ever had. Raven goes on about the doctorate program she recently got accepted to, and your heart swells with pride. You might not be particularly close to her, but you've seen how incredibly hard she's had to work to get to where she is now. It's hard being a woman in a field dominated by men; even harder when you're disabled. You know that from experience, though your injuries aren't as obvious anymore. Octavia has been working hard with Indra for an upcoming tournament in Sweden. You met her at the dojo about eight years ago. She had just lost her mother, and Bellamy was doing his best to take care of her, but there was only so much he could do on his own. Octavia had to work through her emotions, and therapy wasn't helping, just like it had never helped you. You suggested that Octavia should try training with you and Indra to Bellamy, who was in your Cultural Anthropology class at the time. He was reluctant, but figured anything that could help his sister was worth a try. She took to it very quickly, and became one of Indra's star students. Kyokushin was tough, but Octavia was tougher. 

Clarke was doing her last year of residency at Ark Hospital, and was incredibly happy with her decision to focus on trauma surgery. You have no idea how she found the time, but she recently finished three large pieces of art for an upcoming joint exhibition at the gallery you work at. It was completely by chance that you ended up landing the job there, but it's the first job you've had and truly loved. 

Octavia and Raven headed back to their apartment, while you and Clarke stayed back and talked for a while longer. 

"What was it like over there, Lex? I know we've talked about it briefly but you've always been pretty vague about it." You chuckle and shift in your seat so you're facing her. 

"Honestly, Clarke? It was lonely. I had my parents, yes, but it was so hard for me to find people that I connected with. My coworkers were nice and all, but it's so different there. It's like everyone wants something from you. There's no such thing as socializing for friendship. It's always about networking, it's always about money. I would go home after an event feeling emptier than I did before," you sigh and take another sip of your third pint of beer. Clarke placed her hand on top of yours and you turned your hand so your palms connected and fingers intertwined. You absentmindedly ran a thumb along her knuckles. "I didn't have much of a choice though. My parents were in no position to help me move back here. Then when I decided I wanted to go back to school, I found out I couldn't complete my education there. So I spent months doing nothing. I was a founding member of an art collective that was run to the ground by the director not giving a shit, then it was a waiting game to see what would happen next. That's around the time I last visited. After I went back, things took off with the event planning agency my friend started. I actually enjoyed that. It was good money, good networking opportunities, but...I never felt like I was enough. Once I saved up, I decided to move back here. So here I am," you half-smile at Clarke and down the rest of your beer. You didn't have to mention how hard it was on your mental health. You knew Clarke could see it in your eyes. She always told you that she learned more about you just by looking at you. You couldn't help it, she always seemed to knock down your walls. She brought your hand to her mouth and gently kissed it. 

"I'm so glad you're home." 

"I am too." 

 

\--- 

 

The nightmares haven't let up, and you find yourself struggling to get more than three hours of sleep. Something has been bubbling in your chest all night, and you can't tell if it's anxiety or heartburn. Your heart is beating so fast it keeps you awake, and you feel bile rising in your throat. You know it won’t go further up - it always stays where it is. You sigh and swing your legs off your bed, and shiver when your feet touch the ground. It’s always fucking cold. You grab a shirt off the ground and throw it on, and press play on your stereo as you walk to the bathroom to relieve yourself and wash your face. The clock in the bathroom reads 3:45AM. You pull your hair back into a messy bun and try to wash away the dark circles beneath your eyes. As you walk out of the bathroom you can’t help but laugh at the appropriateness of the song currently playing, and quietly sing along. 

“ _Lady of gold, you would fit beautiful in my wilderness. Oh, in your waters I’ve dropped anchor. You’ll see lightning, cascading - pronouncements of our love, oh our lo_ _ve.”_  You hum along to the instrumental verse and make your way to the kitchen, where you pour yourself a much-needed glass of water. “ _Tell me, why do I feel you running away? Tell me, why do I feel you running away?”_ A tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away as the song ends and your late night playlist begins to shuffle. You sit down on your sofa, and bring your knees to your chest, and rub your calves. The hair on your legs is getting thick again. You always regret shaving, especially because it’s started to take so much longer for it all to grow back. Of course, you just do it to please your mother when she starts to relentlessly get on your case about it. You can’t help being hairy. You actually enjoy it, if you’re being honest with yourself. Five minutes later and you feel yourself getting even more restless, so you head back into your bedroom and flip on the light, squinting until your eyes adjust. There’s a large canvas propped up on a table covered with plastic wrap on the far side of the room, by the window. You grab an old plastic cup and fill it a quarter of the way with water and place it on the table, and stare at the unfinished painting. You loved painting as a child, but when your mental health declined, you lost your desire to paint. Clarke is the one that reintroduced you to the world of art, and you are forever grateful for it. Painting people, objects, and landscapes was something you tried in the past, but it was no longer something you felt comfortable doing. The people you attempt to paint end up looking deformed anyway, so that’s probably for the best. You’ve been using it as a form of therapy recently, particularly to soothe yourself after bad nightmares. The thing that bothers you the most about your nightmares is that you can never remember anything but the colors, so you blend until you reach the shade you need, and smear it on the canvas with a palette knife. This one is different from most. The background is a solid black, with lines of yellows and blues of various shades laid thickly on the foreground. You take a deep breath, and begin to work on blending the colors. You paint until the sun comes up. At least it’s your day off. 

 

— 

 

Painting, unfortunately, did not help much. To your delight, it started raining early in the day, so you changed into your boots, and tucked your black jeans into your socks. You opt out of wearing a bra and pull your favourite faded band shirt over your head, then your black hoodie, black denim jacket, and dark grey scarf. As soon as you walk out of the door and onto the wet sidewalk, it feels as though your floating above yourself. You can feel your breath, hard and laboured, and the sting of the cold on your fingertips, as well as hear the music from your headphones in your ears, but you feel disconnected from yourself — like your body and mind are no longer one. You haven’t had an episode like this in quite some time. 

Your feet find their way to the beach; your favourite place to be during a storm. There was something beautiful about the way the rain hit the water, and how the waves became tempestuous along with the wind. You found a spot to sit, on top of the boulders that lined the cliffside, and lit a cigarette, only to have it get put out by the wind and water. You cursed, and crumpled it in your hand, shoving the ruined cigarette into your jacket pocket. The sting of the rain hitting your face would have to be enough for now.

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there, but someone calling out to you breaks your trance. The sun is hanging lower in the sky. You turn around and see nothing. When did your fingers get so wrinkled? When did it get so cold? You become aware of the chattering of your teeth and the fact that your clothes are completely soaked through.

“Lexa!” You hear again, and look behind you. Someone is waving and walking closer to you. They’re wrapping their jacket tightly around them. A strand of long, blonde hair escapes their hood. Clarke. “Lexa, what the hell are you doing out here?” You shrug. “Dammit, Lex. It’s freezing. You’re going to get sick. How long have you been out here anyway?” Another shrug. “Okay, fine, let’s get you to your car."

“I walked.” 

“What? In this weather? Christ, Lex. Get up, we’re going back to my place before you freeze.” Clarke extends her arm out and helps you to your feet, and wraps an arm around your waist, leading you to her car. “Your clothes are completely soaked through. Take off your hoodie and your jacket, I’ll turn the heater on.” You shrug out of your clothes and put them in the trunk of Clarke’s car. She’s already in the driver’s seat cranking up the heat. As soon as you're buckled in, she drives east, heading to her apartment only a few blocks away. She parks, takes your wet clothes out of the trunk, and grabs your hand, leading you to the door of the complex and up a flight of stairs. Her apartment hasn’t changed much at all. The same artwork adorns the walls, which are simply painted white. She motions for you to get into the bathroom, where she turns on the shower. “Strip, and get in the shower.” 

“Um, Clarke…” you hesitate as she waits, and a blush rises to your cheeks. 

“Oh! Oh. Right, sorry, uh… I’ll go grab you some dry clothes. Take your time. There’s clean towels on the rack, just drape your clothes over the door.” Clarke’s cheeks are flushed pink, and she quickly backs out of the room with an awkward smile. You shiver again as you take off the wet clothes that are clinging to your skin, and jump back when the water hits you. 

“Fuck, too hot,” you hiss. You spend ten minutes in the shower until you’re completely warmed up, and pat yourself dry. You wrap the towel around yourself and poke your head out the door. “Hey, Clarke?"

“Be right there!” Clarke walks towards the door and smiles at you. “Hey."

“Hey."

“Here’s some clothes. Just make yourself at home when you’re done. I’ve got some tea on the kettle."

“Thanks, Clarke."

“No problem.” She handed you some baggy sweatpants and a comfortable long sleeve t-shirt, which falls loosely on your shoulders. You made a mental note to go to the storage unit your parents rented before the big move and pull out the box with some of your old clothes in it. Clarke is already sitting on the yellow couch in front of the television with a cup of tea in her hand. You pick up the second cup from the coffee table and sit at the opposite end of the sofa. You’re not sure your heart can take much more, with the way it’s beating right now. Sitting closer to Clarke would surely stop it. She’s quiet, as are you, and you take a moment to really look around the sitting area. You notice that she’s framed some new pictures; the ones she took of the two of you with a disposable camera when you last visited. Another is of the entire group, sans Clarke. Bellamy and Lincoln are smiling widely, Octavia and Raven are on either side of you, and Anya is scowling in the back. You smile to yourself and lean back into the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. “Feeling any better, Lexa?” You nod, and take a sip of the tea.

“Yes, thank you.” Silence falls between the two of you again, and a question pops into your mind. “Clarke, how did you know I was having an episode?"

“I didn’t. We were supposed to get a late lunch today, but you weren’t answering my calls and I got worried, so I went to check on you. I couldn’t get ahold of you, nor could I find you anywhere, so I went to see if you wandered to the beach."

“Ah.” 

“Old habits die hard, huh?” You chuckle, and nod. 

“Yes. I’m sorry, Clarke. You really didn’t have to go out of your way to find me.” She laughs and scoots over to your side of the sofa, placing a hand on your knee. It feels like your skin is burning beneath her touch. 

“Well, I’m glad I did.” She starts to stroke your knee with her thumb, and you draw in a shaky breath. She looks at you with her eyebrow raised questioningly, and you softly shake your head. _Shit, Lexa, now is not the time._ You’re trying to swallow the words you’ve been dying to say to Clarke since you got home, but they’re threatening to escape from your mouth, so you press your lips tightly together. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to put this in the sink,” Clarke says as she gets up from the couch. You miss the contact immediately, but release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. You use the minute it takes for Clarke to go to and from the kitchen to compose yourself, but it isn’t working. She sits back down on the far end of the couch, with her feet planted on the ground. She smiles at you, and there’s nothing but fondness in her eyes. “C’mere, Lexa,” she says as she pats her lap. You know exactly what she’s asking you to do; Clarke has always loved playing with your hair, and you’ve always been more than happy to comply with her requests to do so, so you lay your head in her lap as her fingers run through your damp locks. You hum contentedly, and bury your nose in her sweatshirt. It takes about five minutes for you to fall asleep. 

 

— 

 

You wake up bleary-eyed, with your face no longer pressed against Clarke’s sweatshirt, but the crook of her neck. You have no idea how she was able to change positions without waking you, but you suppose it’s because it’s been at least a week since you’ve gotten any sort of restful sleep. The faint scent of her grapefruit body wash clings to her skin, but she smells familiar. She smells the way you always remember her. You’ve always enjoyed that; people having distinct scents. Your mind wanders for a moment, wondering what yours is. Even if you knew, you probably wouldn’t be able to find the words for it, the same way you cannot find words for Clarke’s. Her scent is hers and hers alone. You don’t want to move, but your bladder is about ready to burst, so you lift yourself up. Clarke makes a displeased sound, and her eyes flutter open.

“Stay,” she whispers, and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear before placing her palm on your cheek. You cover her hand with your own, and move it away, kissing it as you stand up. 

“I have to pee."

“Hmph, fine, just because I don’t want you to pee on me,” she covers her eyes with her forearm and wiggles closer to the back of the couch in an attempt to get comfortable again. 

When you return, she’s asleep again, so you sit on the floor next to her, and lightly stroke her hair. You kiss her forehead and rest your nose against it. You notice a small smile on Clarke’s lips. “Your breath tickles."

“Sorry."

“No, it’s ok. I like it. Come back up here.” You do just that, but the right half of your body is still hanging off of the couch, and you need to support yourself with your leg in order to stay in that position, and you don’t want to make Clarke move. You’re fine until your butt starts cramping, and it becomes incredibly uncomfortable. “You ok there?” Clarke asks, opening one of her eyes to look at you. 

“Um… My butt’s cramping up. I’m half off the sofa."

“Oh, shit, sorry. Hang on a sec,” she lifts herself up by holding onto the back of the sofa, leaving you room to wiggle underneath her and put your right leg up. She settles on top of you, tangling her legs with yours and resting her head on your chest. You draw slow circles on her back and she hums with approval. “This is nice."

“Yeah."

“Your heart’s beating really fast."

“I did just run a marathon." 

"Hush," she gently swats your arm. "Are you ok, though?"

"Just fine, Clarke."

“Ok,” she chuckles, and the two of you fall into another comfortable silence, with only the sound of your synced breathing and your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Clarke breaks the silence after a few moments. “I missed you so much, Lexa. I like having you close to me. Don’t leave any time soon, ok?"

“I won’t.” You can’t tell if she means her apartment, or the city. Probably both. 

“Good,” she yawns. “What time is it?” You crane your neck to look at the clock next to the television. 

“Half-past seven."

“Do you want to stay the night?"

“Sure."

“Ok, we’ll move to my room. Just not now. I don’t want to move right now."

“Neither do I."

“I might fall asleep again."

“That’s alright."

You eventually carry a sleeping Clarke to her room when your neck starts to hurt. You settle in next to her, and whisper a ‘goodnight’ as you switch off the lamp on the side table. 

 

When you find yourself pressed against her in the morning, your heart aches. You have to tell her. You will over breakfast. If she doesn’t feel the same, then you need to start distancing yourself now before it becomes even more unbearable, and you’re damn close to crossing that line as it is. For right now, though? You stay where you are, content with this for the moment, and unwilling to disturb Clarke’s sleep. When she wakes up, the two of you go through your usual morning routine; you use a spare toothbrush and twist your hair into a braid (which took longer than usual considering you fell asleep with damp hair), and wash your face. Clarke is done before you, and is the one who starts breakfast. Pancakes. Nobody makes pancakes as good as Clarke. Your father would kill you if he heard you say that. You’re putting your third forkful in your mouth, when she gives you an unreadable look. You can’t exactly place what emotions are at play behind her eyes, but you can definitely see a tinge of sadness. You swallow your pancakes and put your fork down, and take a deep breath. Your heart is pounding furiously in your chest, and you wonder if Clarke can hear it. 

“Clarke, I…” you rub your forehead. “Thank you. For all of this. I really appreciate it.” _Coward._  


“Oh,” Clarke sounds equal parts confused and surprised. “Any time, Lexa." You offer her a sheepish smile, and she furrows her eyebrows. "Is something bothering you?" 

"No," you answer a little too quickly, and a little too firmly. 

"Alright. Listen, I'm on call today so I might have to run out of here. Let me drop you off?"

"You don't have to."

"I know, but I'd like to." 

"Ok." 

"Ok." 

 

\--- 

 

You're bubble wrapping some heavy canvases in the back of the gallery, in preparation of shipping them back to the artist. It's a bit laborious, with them being twice your size, but it's far better than administrative work. Gustus, the gallery director, walks in and gives you a hand boxing some of them. He's a sweet guy, if a little overbearing. You enjoy the conversations you have with him; he's a very well-educated and cultured man, and you can't help but be jealous. You need to start looking into college applications again. It's time you finish what you started all those years ago.

The day goes by quickly, and you watch Gustus lock up with an unlit cigarette hanging between your fingers. You put it back in its container. After he drives off, you decide to give Anya a call. 

"Hello, Alexandria," she says curtly. You smile to yourself and shake your head. 

"I told you to please not call me that, and yet..." 

"Oh come on, you know you never should've told me why you don't like being called _Alexandria_ , Alexandria."

"I was drunk when I told you."

"Doesn't make it any less true, does it?" You stay silent. "Alright, spit it out, I don't have all day. Why'd you call?"

"Clarke." 

"Did you finally grow a pair and say something to her?" 

"I tried."

"So that's a no. Stop torturing yourself, Lex. Just fucking tell her. And don't give me any of that 'I'm waiting for the right time' bullshit."

"But--"

"I don't want to hear it. Do something." The line goes dead. _Dammit._  


 

\--- 

 

The next time you see Clarke is two weeks later, when you invite everyone over for dinner. One of your favorite things to do is cook for the people you love, and this has been your first opportunity to do so in four years. She shows up at your door twenty minutes early with a bottle of white wine in her hands, and the smile that melts your heart. 

"Clarke." 

"Hey, Lexa," she says as she leans in to kiss your cheek. You take the wine from her and place it on the kitchen counter. "Need any help?" 

"No. Feel free to help yourself to any drinks in the fridge. I've got...beer. I might have a bottle of red wine in there somewhere." 

"I'll crack open the bottle I brought. Want a glass?" 

"Please." She pours you both a glass, and places yours on the countertop next to the stove. She hovers behind you before she rests her chin on your shoulder. 

"That looks good."

"I hope it will be."

"What is it?" You chuckle and bring the spoon to Clarke's mouth so she can taste it. She makes an approving noise. "It's a lemon alfredo sauce, made with blended cashews instead of cream." 

"God that's so good." The doorbell rings and Clarke leaves your side to answer it. "Hey, Bell."

"Hey princess," he kisses her cheek.

"We have wine, want a glass?"

"Red or white?"

"White." 

"Pass," you hear Clarke laugh and turn to wave at Bellamy. He smiles at you and kisses your cheek. "Looks good, Lex. Need anything?"

"I need you to stay out of my kitchen, and keep your sister out of here when she gets here too."

"Jeez, the 'no Blakes in the kitchen' rule still stands huh?" 

"Always will, Blake."

The rest of your friends arrive within the next half hour, and your apartment has never felt so warm. Raven and Octavia are hanging off each other as usual. Lincoln, Bellamy, and Clarke are in a heated discussion about who-knows-what, and Anya is lingering in the corner if your kitchen with a beer in her hand. 

"Hey, Commander! I got you some goodies." She yells and waggles her eyebrows. "Jas and Monty send their regards." 

"Raven, you are officially my favorite person right now." 

"Clarke told me you were having trouble sleeping. Nightmares?" You nod. "They have a new strain that's damn near magical. Puts me to sleep nightmare-free every time. Plus the bum leg doesn't hurt for a couple days after."

"Thank you." 

"Anything for the Commander," she smirks at you and steals Anya from the kitchen. "Stop being so fucking antisocial, Ans." You can feel Anya glaring at Raven. 

 

Dinner goes smoothly, and after you've all had a few glasses of wine, everyone huddles up on the couch and the floor, munching on the brownies Lincoln brought over. It's nice to catch up with everyone. You hadn't realized how out of touch you actually were until tonight, and your heart has a dull ache. You know that moving away with your parents was the best option (and your only option if you take everything into consideration), but leaving the people you love behind was the hardest decision you've ever had to make. Right now, though? You're the happiest you've been in a long time. Clarke is pressed up against you and laughing at a story Bellamy is retelling, and the corners of her eyes crinkle up. You want to kiss them so badly. There's a buzzing in your pocket and you grab your phone. It's a text from Anya, who's looking at you with a raised eyebrow. 

  
_Anya : Fucking tell her. The way you're looking at her is going to give me an aneurysm_. 

 

You flip her off and she smirks. 

It's close to 1AM and it's just you, Anya, and Clarke left in your living room. You're grateful for Bellamy who rounded everyone up to help clean before they took off. Anya finishes her glass of water and practically slams it down on the counter, announcing her exit. She glares at you and flits her eyes to Clarke as she closes the door. 

"And then, there were two." Clarke says. "Want me to get out of your hair? It's pretty late." 

"I have no plans tomorrow, you can stay."

"Then I'll stay. Music?" You gesture to the cabinet with your sound system. It's the only thing you really put a significant amount of money into, and it was damn well worth it. Clarke pulls a record off the shelf and shows it to you. "I remember when you played this for me for the first time. You were exhausted, and you have your little music rants when you're tired. It took us twenty minutes for you to finally find the perfect album for your mood that night. Do you remember why?" You think about it for a few seconds and come up empty. "You were here for a visit, and had your first anxiety attack in months. You said it always makes you feel safe, and warm when you feel vulnerable. That's all I got out of you that night. You fell asleep on my couch just before the last song ended.” You watch her as she pulls it out of the sleeve and places is on the record player. The needle touches the record and the warm crackle fills the speakers. As soon as the first song starts to play, you don’t know where to look. You’re afraid that if you look at Clarke she’ll know, and you’re not entirely certain this is how you want her to find out. 

_“Love you all the time, even though you’re not mine. Love you all the time, dream I’m in the saltwater…"_

You frantically drink the rest of your beer, looking anywhere but the golden-haired woman you long for. 

“ _You couldn’t lose me if you tried. ‘Cause I’ll be rolling to your side, baby."_  


  
_“_ You know you wouldn’t, right?” Clarke’s voice catches your attention, but your eyes are focused on the droplet of water rolling down the bottle in your hand. “You wouldn’t lose me, Lexa.” You feel her next to you, and you’re acutely aware that her hand is now around yours, prying the beer bottle away from you. It clinks on the countertop. You can’t hear the music anymore, only the sound of your heart beating wildly fills your ears. She walks closer to you, and you step backwards until you’re pinned against the island. Clarke moves a hand to your face, and tucks a strand of hair that’s been bothering you behind your ear, so softly you’d swear she was a ghost if you couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of her. “I know, Alexandria.” Your eyes snap up and look into hers. They’re a steely blue, and in that moment you realise why you’ve found more grey undertones in your paintings as of late. You open your mouth but no sound comes out, so you swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat and try again. 

“What?” It still comes out strained. Clarke smiles and puts the hand you were holding your drink with on her neck, and she presses her forehead against yours. 

“Tell me, Lexa.” 

“I… Clarke,” you look at her pleadingly, and she runs her fingers through your hair. You close your eyes. “You scare me, Clarke.” Your voice is barely a whisper, and she searches your face for something more. “You scare me so much. I don’t want to lose this friendship, I don’t want to lose you over my feelings, because I care about you too much to not have you in my life, but at the same time I want more, and that’s what scares me. I could so easily fall in love with you, and it scares me. I think I already have, and knowing there’s a possibility that these feelings can intensify and not be reciprocated is terrifying.” You want to flee, you want nothing more than to run as far and as fast as you can, but your legs are weighed down like lead, and your blood feels like sludge, running slowly and thickly through your veins, yet everything around you seems to be moving at light speed while you remain stationery. 

“You scare me too. Clearly you didn’t realise this but, I feel the same way about you, and I have for years. It was just never the right time, with you being so far away… but you’re here now."

“I’m here now.” She places a hand on your cheek and traces your bottom lip with her thumb. 

“May I?” You smile, and bring your lips closer to hers, and whisper a yes on her lips as she presses them against yours, and for the first time in a long time, you feel safe.

 

You feel at home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading through this mess.


End file.
